Sometimes, the Morning Man is omniscient enough to plan a trip to a sports book in Vegas. Because I am the shy, retiring type, I will NOT remind youse that I said the Brew Crew was due for a bad-soda hangover, and that this would occur here over the weekend.

I would NEVER suggest that I said The Club was capable of righting its ship, even if it proves to be temporary, and that the pitching would show up and be significant.

(Of course, I also said that the Reds have little margin for error, and that some years winning simply isn't meant to be. Let's ignore that today, shall we?)

The weekend offered hope, if not many clues. The Reds still looked aimless for nine innings Sunday, when they needed a big hit with a RISP. They still got shut out Friday after scoring eight Thursday. But T. Frazier delivered in the biggest game of the year, to date. He's easy to root for. His Jersey personality fills the room. He's a team guy, gets along with everyone. He could be a rallying point, if he can deliver the way he did yesterday.

I'm still in no mood to declare What It All Means, because there is no What It All Means in May. Or June or July. But had the Reds been swept. . .

The pitching was terrific. Three runs, two, two, three. The Brewers came in slumping and left the same way. Ramirez is 1 for his last 38. Braun missed all four games. When Khris Davis isn't hitting homers, he's not hitting.

On to Boston. Because we see ad nauseam the replay of Fisk willing the ball to stay fair in Game 6, half the country believes the Red Sox won the '75 Series. For the record: They didn't.

· BAD TREND O' THE DAY… Local media are starting to refer to the Reds manager, on all references, by his full name.

Bryan Price

BryanPrice.

Stop it.

This insidious trend began where lots of insidious trends begin, on ESPN. I date it to the months before Peyton Manning signed with Denver. The WWL never referred to him on second reference as "Manning.'' Always PeytonManning.

· GREAT STUFF AS USUAL from SI.com's T.Verducci, who looks at defensive shifts in MLB, and finds that's not the main reason hitting is in trouble:

These are bad days for hitters. It is harder to get a hit in the major leagues today than at any time since 1972 -- the last of the seasons without the DH. It would be easy to ascribe much of that difficulty to the wonders of number-crunching and the sophisticated defensive positioning it inspires.

Actually, the downturn in hitting has much more to do with pitchers than it does fielders. In 1972, for instance, hitters batted .244 overall, including .272 on balls in play. This year, hitters are batting .248, but that average now includes a much more robust .296 average on balls in play. Here's the difference between 1972 and 2014: The percentage of plate appearances that are strikeouts has soared from 14.8 to a record 20.8.

A key part of the "problem," if you prefer more offense, is another post-DH change in the game that is far more impactful than the shifts: The modern specialized bullpen. In 1972, hitters actually hit for a higher average (.250) and struck out less often (14.3%) in innings seven through nine than they did in the first six innings. This year, hitting gets even more difficult in the late innings (.238) with even more strikeouts (21.4 percent) as managers use a parade of hard-throwing relief specialists to quash offense.

Put another way, just when a baseball game should be building to an exciting climax -- the last three innings -- the modern game devolves into 1968, the infamous Year of the Pitcher

* ANNOYING II. . . The "whoos'' at GASP are gathering steam. They are worse than The Wave, by about a million times, and The Wave should have been banned like glass bottles and Pete Rose. Whooing sounds worse on TV. This is a Baseball Town, allegedly. A little sophistication, please.

I feel better now. . .

· THE DRAFT is Thursday, so it's time for the annual recapitulation of The Krumrie Postulate, in honor of former Bengals stud noseman Tim Krumrie. Which states, basically, "so many who talk so much, know so little.'' In football, it describes "experts,'' who can tell you everything about a player, except if he can play.

But the KP can occur in any situation where blowhards own the stage, and what they say today is never verified for accuracy tomorrow. You know the type: Guys at a party just spouting about a particular subject, excessively using the first-person singular. It could be music, movies, clothes, beer, how to grill salmon. Doesn't matter. They know what they know. You invent a bathroom run.

(Question: How does a college player's "stock'' decline, between his last game and the draft?)

Krumrie was a 10th-round pick, when the Draft had 10 rounds. Now, he'd be a free agent. He had a pretty nice career (look it up, kids) and was forever inspired by how overlooked he'd been.

The force-fed fascination with J. Manziel will end, mercifully, Thursday night. The bloviating of MelTodd McKiper will cease, at least for a time, proving there is a God. Even if we do have to endure draft "grades'' a day after the draft. This, too, shall pass.

(You judge a draft three to five years after it occurs, not three to five minutes, K?)

· THAT SAID, The Men's early rounds will be intriguing, given the QB situation. The Bengals have done well not reaching, which likely means they won't take a QB at No. 24. At 55? MBrown likes QBs. He loves leverage. Taking a Mettenberger or a Murray in Round 2 could satisfy both hungers. Brown has been overruled in the Room (I refuse to say W—Room) lately, so if an argument is convincing enough, maybe they pass on a QB until Round 3. Kenny Anderson was a 3rd-rounder.

No. 24, Cincinnati.Bengals like Teddy Bridgewater. They couldn't. Could they? Well, if you're Cincinnati, and you're seriously thinking about making Andy Dalton the center of the franchise and paying him $17 million a year, you might be asking the question about whether Dalton's worth it.

I don't think they do this, mainly because I doubt they'll have the chance. But it's a good question. If you're even pondering drafting a QB in Round 1, why are you also considering paying Dalton franchise QB money?

Your take. And does the Draft hold this weird fascination for you? Has the NF of L brainwashed you, too? Please say no.

· COLLEGE BUDDY REUNION… I'm nostalgic, sometimes to a fault. The rose-colored glasses do appear when I'm gazing in the rearview mirror. But not so much as they used to. And never, strangely, when it comes to my college seasons.

I have been back to my alma mater (Washington & Lee, '79) once since I graduated. Never attended a reunion. No desire. Loved the four years, but what's done is done. I've kept up with two of my frat brothers, both of whom live in Houston, partly because I seem to be there for The Men a lot. (Again this year.)

Beyond that, eh. So it was cool yesterday to hook up with another buddy I hadn't seen in a mere 35 years. Andy FitzGerald was here to run The Pig; we connected at the Reds game for a few innings yesterday.

It's funny. People age, obviously, but I never see my long-lost peers as any age except the one when we were hanging out. Fitz isn't 56; he's 20, drinking beer on the back porch at Phi Kappa Psi. That would be true if I saw him every day, or once in 35 years. Do you feel this way?

· DUAL TRIUMPHS. . . Jillian The Magnificent took a silver medal in the 50-meter freestyle Saturday, at the Hamilton County Special Olympics swim meet. Kerry Daugherty walked the half Pig Sunday. I attended the former and, um, slept through the latter. Very cool, though. Very cool.

TUNE O' THE DAY. . . From the Doobies' best album, The Captain and Me, a nice swayer.